


If You Stay, I Stay

by Whoareyou0000



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Justin, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Break Up Talk, Episode Fix-it, Ethan Gold Has Nothing on Brian Kinney, Fix-It of Sorts, Gay Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Justin Chooses Brian, Justin and Brian Fight, M/M, Making Up, POV Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk), Sexual Content, Slow Dancing, Then they make up, Top Brian Kinney (Queer as Folk), because they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:54:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoareyou0000/pseuds/Whoareyou0000
Summary: "I guess I’m asking you now.” Brian doesn’t speak, just gives Justin time. When he does find his next words, they’re whispers. “I need more of you Brian. So, do you? Love me enough?”-An alternate ending to 2:18, wherein Justin confronts Brian following his dismissal of their romantic dinner and tries to fix what's been broken.
Relationships: Brian Kinney/Justin Taylor (Queer as Folk)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68





	If You Stay, I Stay

“If you leave, I leave.” 

Justin trembles, the tears held just behind his pleading eyes. The words escape his lips before he even has a moment to think of their repercussions. They’re a threat long held, one that’s lived on the tip of his tongue for weeks, and with every turn of Brian’s back they’ve moved closer to fruition. 

He will break up with Brian, with his boyfriend, if something doesn’t change. 

“Fantastic.” Brian is sorting through his t-shirts, completely unaware of the avalanche he has triggered just outside of their bedroom walls. “Hurry up, wouldn’t want to miss the crowning of ‘best chest.’” 

Justin squares his shoulders, prepares for the final battle amidst the debris of a crushed romantic evening at his feet. Candles, cheeses, crackers, and pillows anchor him to his decision. When he finds his words again, they’re thick and heavy on his tongue. 

“No, Brian. I mean if you go out tonight, then I’m breaking up with you.” 

A shirt drops from Brian’s extended hands, lands on the bed in slow motion. The man slowly turns his head to face the boy who is trying so hard not to cry like a child with a scraped knee. 

Brian’s face is calm, contained when he closes his jaw and quietly swallows. His bare chest absorbs the room’s muted light, the muscles firming and relaxing as he takes a few careful steps to the bedroom’s doorway, leans against the edge like James Dean.

“Is that so?” Brian twiddles his fingers in the loop of his belt, pretends not to care. “Ultimatums are for dykes. If you want to break up with me, then do it like the fag I raised you to be.” 

The loft is so silent, so still during this wild west style face off. Justin holds his breath, balls his fists until his hand aches. He is not a kid, he’s a man. He can do this. He can break up with the man he loves. People have been doing it for centuries. 

“I don’t want to break up with you, but I will. First, I owe you a chance to make this right. I know you can, you will, if you love me as much as I love you.” 

Brian releases a breath, practically collapses against the doorframe with his joints jutting at odd angles. Justin has the sudden urge to draw the man right now in this crooked pose, the sensuality wafting from him like an expensive cologne. It’s what always draws him back, Brian’s aura. Instead, he flares his nostrils and waits him out. 

Finally, a few deep breaths later, Brian’s face emerges from the strange cocoon and catches the light just right. He’s an art piece, this man. He takes Justin’s breath away, even when he’s tearing him down piece by piece. 

“You know how I feel about you, Justin, and you also know that I don’t cater to your tantrums.” He pushes off the frame, takes a calculated step down. “I’m me, the same person you met outside of Babylon a year and half ago. If either of us has changed, it’s you.” Justin holds his ground, his breaths coming in shaky waves. “So, tell me, Sunshine, what do you want?” 

Justin swallows, really thinks on his words as Brian takes another step down. Then he releases them in a long heavy sob that cracks his voice and tightens his fists. Brian stiffens at the sound, eyes wide. 

“I want you to spend time with me, and not just when we’re fucking. I want to have conversations with you, hold hands, spend one night not getting sucked or fucked by some stranger. I want you to treat me like you want me around. Not just my body, all of me. If I can’t be your only, then I need to know that I’m your one.” 

Justin’s crying. He swipes angrily at the tears that are pouring down his cheeks, hiccups between breaths. Brian stops on the last stair, seemingly paralyzed by this sudden display of emotion. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, all those nights after the bashing he spent holding Justin through the nightmares, soothing the frustrated meltdowns following the physical therapy sessions. 

Brian has saved him over and over again. They made it through hell together and now it could all be over before they even get a taste of heaven.

Brian’s deer-in-the-headlights look eases with Justin’s next plea. 

“Please Brian. I don’t want to break up with you.” 

Justin sniffles, attempts to flex his fingers. A sharp pain replaces the dull ache, and he grips his hand like it’s an alien trying to invade his body. Brian advances the last few steps easily, his lips parted, and carefully takes Justin’s appendage. He grips every finger individually, massages up and down the joints just like the therapist taught them so long ago. Justin’s tears continue to fall, wetting both of their adjoined hands. 

“Just breathe.” Brian whispers. “Deep breaths, like Fabio taught you.”

The familiar nickname for his physical therapist causes Justin to snort a snotty laugh through his tears. He tries, though, maintains eye contact with Brian as he continues to soothe his cramping joints. They’re so close, their foreheads nearly touching in the small space between plates of crackers and stacks of pillows. 

“Remember when he showed up to your session in that tight black t-shirt. I thought you were gonna jizz your tighty whities like a pre-pubescent boy. Afterwards we were both so turned on that we fucked in the jeep.” The cramping eases, but Justin can’t bring himself to move from that warm embrace. Brian’s pained smile slips through his mask. “Even when we’re bad, we’re good.” 

Justin raises hesitant, puffy eyes, meets Brian’s sad expression as he reverently places Justin’s relaxed hand against his other arm and walks towards the kitchen. There he searches the cabinets until he finds a fifth of rum, half full, and two crystal glasses. He speaks into the bottle with renewed calm and clarity. 

“Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do, Justin. I didn’t want to spend fourteen hours at the office, racking my brain, trying to save my job. I’d much rather have been making carrot-dicked snowmen with you in Vermont than entertaining a crusty old man in Chicago.” 

Justin sniffles, calmer now, and steps over the pillows. He hugs his hand close to his chest as he advances towards the kitchen. “It’s not just about that, Brian. It’s been this way for a long time. When I try to do anything romantic with you, you blow me off.”

Brian raises his eyebrows with his usual smirk. “Is that such a bad thing?” 

The bastard. Justin rolls his eyes and stops when he reaches the outer side of the kitchen counter.

“You know what I mean. I know you’re not, like, prince charming or whatever. I just thought maybe you loved me enough to want to do romantic things every now and then. You know, like on my birthday?" He speaks to his reflection in the black marble. "I guess not.”

Brian freezes with the bottle mid-pour. He locks earnest eyes on Justin. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t assume my feelings. Human beings are icebergs, Justin, and you have no idea what lies underneath the surface.” 

“Exactly.” Justin leans in, meets Brian’s stare head on. “If anyone should get a glimpse, it should be me. I should know how you feel about me, Brian, I should feel it every time you look at me, touch me. It shouldn’t be in question. Not after a year of sharing our lives.” 

“Should. Should. Should.” Brian downs a finger of rum, slams the glass back down. “Who made these rules, anyway? Because they’re not the ones we agreed on. I didn’t know they existed until right now. How is that fair?” 

Brian pours the rusty liquid into another glass and then slides it across the counter. Justin takes it in his good hand and slowly spins it around, never quite bringing it to his lips. “I guess it’s not. I guess, I’m asking you now.” Brian doesn’t speak, just gives Justin time. When he does find his next words, they’re whispers. “I need more of you Brian. So, do you? Love me enough?” 

Brian sighs, leans over the counter on his bent elbows, and chews on his lips. 

“Enough to hold your hand? I just did. Enough to have a conversation without fucking? We’re doing that right now. If I didn’t want you around, then I wouldn’t be here listening and talking when I could be at Babylon fucking a big-chested bear.” Justin tenses at the tone, feels himself pulling away, and then Brian’s palm is on his cheek and he meets blue eyes so warm and soft that he practically melts. “However, I’m clearly doing something wrong if you don’t realize that you’re my one.” 

His hand crawls forward, cups the back of Justin’s neck, and brings him close enough to leave a single, chaste kiss on his forehead. That one small act warms Justin’s entire body and restarts his dying heart. 

“You’re right, though, I’m not a prince.” Brian leaps gracefully onto the countertop and crouches, smirks playfully. “I’m the evil villain saving the princess from a tragic life of banality.” 

Justin laughs, accepts the hand that guides him up onto the chair and then onto the marble. They’re on their feet then, hands joined, and Justin finds himself smiling until his tear-stained cheeks hurt. Brian returns the gesture, his face softer and lighter, and steadies Justin against his chest. One possessive hand claims his lower back and the other points a remote at the stereo. It comes to life with a song, their song. 

“May I have this dance, Mr. Taylor?” 

Justin feels himself melting against this man’s body. All of the tension, the dread, from earlier gives way to the scariest feeling of all-hope. 

“You may, Mr. Kinney.” 

They fall into step, Brian leading him in a gentle side-to-side sway that keeps them far from the counter’s edge. Justin buries his face in Brian’s bare shoulder, inhales his musky scent. It’s intoxicating, far more so than the rum they’ve ingested. He could fall asleep right there, live the rest of his existence in that space between Brian’s neck and chest. He could, but something stops his eyes from closing completely. 

Brian tightens his hold around Justin’s waist, as if sensing the sudden shift. Justin clings to him harder, speaks into his skin and tastes the salt. 

“Why do we fuck other guys? Why can’t it just be us?” 

That silly song plays on, reminding Justin of simpler times before he got bashed, before Brian blamed himself. A long breath displaces his hair. Those erogenous lips form unspoken, practice sentences against his scalp. Eventually, they emit sound. 

“Would that make you stay? If it were just us?” 

Those thumbs rubbing warmth into his lower back. The arms squeezing him, keeping him flesh against a solid wall of muscle. The throbbing heartbeat in his ear that reminds him that he is loved by a man who claims to be incapable. 

These are the reasons that he will stay for at least another day. 

He has another question, though. An important one.

“Would that make you resent me?” 

The arms tighten. Brian sniffs, seemingly taking in Justin’s scent. Preparing for a loss. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” The song fades into static. They still. Desperate fingertips dig into Justin’s skin. “Is this another ultimatum?” 

“No.” Justin nuzzles against Brian’s neck, kisses the underside of his jaw lightly. “I would never demand that you give up such a significant part of yourself. I just, sometimes I wish I were enough.” 

Brian puts a dick’s worth of space between them, gripping Justin’s hair intensely, nudging his eyes up. What he sees when he gets there takes his breath away. The sheen of wetness over those cobalt orbs. The stern, set mouth. The flared nostrils. The Adam’s Apple working overtime to swallow back his emotion. 

Somehow, Justin is the catalyst of this awe-inspiring beauty. No one else.

“You’re not just enough, Justin, you’re everything.” The fingers loosen, smooth down his hair in quiet defeat. “How about a new rule? Whenever you need confirmation of that, we make it a night in, and we dance.” 

Something settles in Justin’s gut. The need to flee that’s been haunting him for weeks is suddenly absent. The loneliness withers under the intensity of Brian’s soothing smile, turned down slightly at the edges with Justin’s lingering silence. That’s when it clicks. 

Brian is actually afraid that he’ll lose Justin. 

“Okay, we dance and…” Justin stands on his tiptoes and kisses his boyfriend with all of the love in his heart. “…you surprise me. In any way you want. Just surprise me.”

Brian freezes at first, bites his lip in mock consideration, and then kisses Justin back tenfold before dipping him over the edge in a dramatic reenactment of their first dance. He never worries that he’ll fall, though, not in Brian’s arms.  


Justin giggles as he’s viewing the loft upside down, blood rushing to his head and creating a pleasant high. Brian smiles from above, his face relaxed, his eyes teasing as a stray hair falls out of place. 

“Surprised yet, Sunshine?” 

Then he tugs Justin back to his feet and twirls him once, landing him softly against the now sweaty chest. Justin laughs so hard his body trembles and when he props his chin upon Brian’s pec, gazing into those daring eyes, he forgets all about the boy with the fiddle. 

“I don’t know.” Justin jests, licks a circle around Brian’s nipple. “Maybe you should do that again…while fucking me.” 

“Hmm.” Brian’s fingers drag down to Justin’s waist, infiltrate his shirt, and make fingernail marks on his pale skin. “Naughty little princess.” 

Then Brian is down, arms out like a father waiting for his son to jump in. Justin does, of course, and then he’s being lifted and then laid upon the bed like a most treasured possession. Clothes disappear in mere breaths. Brian’s hand cradles his head all the way over the edge of the mattress, a pillow awaiting it on the floor just in case. A wrapper is ripped open, a condom applied, and that toned, curved body covers Justin’s naked form from head to toe, thrusting into him in slow, deep strokes. His head swims with sensations both within and without. Through an orgasmic haze, he spots the remnants of their picnic, a mess unrecognizable from this skewed, blissful angle.

Brian’s arms never leave Justin’s neck, ensuring that he remains safe throughout, and the rush that courses through his body is enough to make him release not once, but twice. Brian stutters and groans into him during one last push, sealing their new deal. 

When it’s over, Brian’s eyes remain trained on Justin. His hair wild, his skin flush. Justin traces his cheekbones with his bad hand, sketching the moment in his mind so that he can give it eternal life on a canvas later. Brian smiles through his touches and utters a promise that erases all thoughts of leaving from Justin’s heart.

“If you stay, I stay.” 

So, Justin does.

**Author's Note:**

> -This is my third rewatch of QAF and it still kills me how hurt Justin was in 2:18 when Brian decided to go out instead of staying for dinner. This fic is how I wish that scene would have gone.
> 
> -Thank you for the lovely reviews on my last fic. I hope this fix-it fic makes you all smile as well.


End file.
